


A House Divided

by Ravenclaw_Peredhel



Series: Make One Wrong Move [2]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alqualondë, Arguing, Curufin Has Daddy Issues, Dysfunctional Family, Ex-Exiles are all slightly crazy, F/M, Family Issues, Fëanor is kind of a bad parent, Good Parent Nerdanel, Maedhros is married, Major Original Character(s), Married Characters, Oath of Fëanor, Older Sibling Maedhros (Tolkien), Original Character-centric, POV Original Female Character, Politics, Redemption, Reincarnation, Second Age, The Noldor, The Silmarillion References, Tirion, Undying Lands, Valinor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:21:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26858140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenclaw_Peredhel/pseuds/Ravenclaw_Peredhel
Summary: Valinor is supposed to be a place of peace and acceptance, but that all goes out the window where the House of Fëanor is concerned.At least, for most.
Relationships: Maedhros | Maitimo/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Make One Wrong Move [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2050524
Comments: 33
Kudos: 28





	1. After All This Time

_The Noldoran's palace, Tirion, T.A. 1264_

"No." 

"No?" Prince Alcarondas Olwion frowned. "What do you mean no?" His daughter held her head up, her lovely face set 

"No. I will not betray my husband." 

"That monster is not your husband!" Her father exclaimed, slamming his hands down on the desk. "He may be reborn, but he is still a Kinslayer. You cannot bind yourself to him again, Hyamindiel, I forbid it. Your wedding will be in a week." Hyamindiel, or Aerin as she was commonly known, third child and second daughter of the crown prince of the Teleri, did not flinch.

"I am also a Kinslayer, _Father_." She hissed. "I followed him, and in all his deeds I had a part. I tortured for him and I killed for him and I died for him, and I. Would. Do. It. All. Again, make no mistake about it." Her father seemed not to understand.

"Enough! I am your father, and your lord. You will obey me in this Hyamindiel, and desist with the nonsense about the Kinslayer. Varys is a noble ellon, with none of the instability of the monster that dragged you away. He will be your husband, and you will obey him, that it my final word on this." 

Aerin laughed scornfully. "Your final word. Is that supposed to make me suddenly bow to your every whim, Father? Curtesy and say, 'as my lord wills it'? Betray my husband and sleep with a spoiled child because it is your will? Have you gone insane?"

"He is not your husband! He is a monster, and you will never see him again! You will see, after a century or so, you will be happy with Varys, once your girlish obession with that...that thing has died down. Varys will be a good match for you. And one day you will come to me, thanking me for arranging a marriage so well for you. Now, sign the contract, your lord commands you." 

Her voice was sweet like honey, and as filled with deadly poison as Ungoliant. "My lord commands me? Where is he? I do not see him. You are not my lord, father. The day that I married, you gave up the right to control me, to order my every move. You do not know me, you do not know what can make me happy. How in Arda can you think that a weasely, snot-nosed boy with a rich father is a good match for me? How can you when you have refused to see that I changed in Midldle Earth? I am no longer the sheltered princess you insist on thinking I still am, Father. I killed, I ended lives, and I do not regret it. In Middle Earth, I was wild, and I was free, and I was feared. Why can you not see what I am now? Perhaps it frightens you, scares you what I am now, knowing that if I wanted, I could kill you a hundred different ways without a weapon. So you sell me in marriage to a child who will try to control me, try to break me. I swear to you, it will _never_ happen. Unless my lord commands me to do so, I will not touch that contract, I swear this to you." 

She swept out, her soft, pretty clothes masking her rage and power in a silken cage.

Once inside her guest chambers, she collapsed on her bed, facing the wall. Three years of the sun her husband had been rebodied, and not a word. He and his six brothers had disappeared to who knows where, not even sending a note to their loved ones. And now her father had taken her husband's silence as a wish for divorce, and arranged a second marriage for her with some vapid nobleman's son in Tirion. He was wilfully blind to the change in her, and so gave her to a child, hoping that it would mellow her to be 'subservient' to an arrogant boy. That marriage would never happen, if only to avoid her killing the child in a fit of rage. 

She sighed, running her hands through her hair. There had to be something that would help her get out of such a thing. Then a smile spread across her face. Not the gentle, sweet kind that had been trained into her from birth, but the cold, cruel kind that had sent terror through the veins of armies when she was the Gurthlossen en Godhel - the White Death of the Noldor. 

Too long she had been idle, waiting for him to come to her, pandering to her family's wishes. No more. They had gone too far this time. She wasn't the soft, pretty thing that they had loved, and she wouldn't hide her true self from them any longer. If they could not accept her, that would be their problem. Starting with her marriage. 

*****************

"How much?"

"Three silver, my Lord." The last two words were whispered, the merchant looking cautiously around. He was one of the few who knew that the hooded figure was his old lord. Maedhros nodded and handed over three silver coins and a bronze. 

"My thanks Narion. I'll be on my way now." He tucked the package of tools for Curufin beneath his arm and strode towards the inn where he was staying while he collected supplies. His room was modest and comfortable, the inn run by another ex-Fëanorian soldier.

The bed was untouched, the fire the same was when he left. Everything was the same, except that someone stood there, in the shadows, watching him. They were smaller and slimmer than him, their face hidden in the hood of their cloak. A thrill of adrenaline ran through him, leaving him on edge and ready for a fight. "Who are you? What do you want?" His voice was demanding, but he did not care. A cold laugh sounded and a thrill of fear ran through his veins. He knew that laugh, had heard it ringing through the din of battle many times, and never had it made him afraid. For it had never been directed at him. A hand, achingly familiar, emerged from the cloak and unfastened it, casting it to the floor. Beneath it was Aerin, as beautiful as ever. 

Her hair cascaded down her back in waves of silver-gold, as though the light of the Trees when they mingled had been trapped into a silky curtain of light. Huge ice-blue eyes stared up at him, completely unintimidated by him. They were seas and skies and lakes and rivers, all swirling and intermingling, bound together by a thin sheet of ice. Creamy skin glowed unblemished in the light streaming through the windows, not a trace remaining of the many battles they fought in Middle Earth. She had obviously come with a purpose, though what it was he did not know. Her dress was dark red, low-cut and clinging to her body in the Telerin style, a strand of rubies like blood curling around her neck. Her voice was cold and biting, although pain was rippling through every syllable.

"Three years ago, I recieved notice that you were released from Mandos Halls. At first, when you did not visit, I thought that perhaps you were still settling in. Then I thought you were waiting until wherever you were living was habitable. But as time went on, I realised, that you simply had grown tired of me. Perhaps you have another elleth to warm your bed and sate your needs. Perhaps you have five. I couldn't care less. But the least you could have done is told me that you had grown tired of me and wished to end our marriage before my father decided to sell me off like a piece of meat to some son of a nobleman here in Tirion. Before I was brought on here, and then told that my wedding to some snot-nosed child is in a week!" Her voice had risen to a shout by the end, and then it softened, becoming weak and vulnerable. "Or is your love for me cooled so much that it is turned to hate? Do you no longer even respect me as a warrior enough to formally end our marriage? I love you, and I will until the end of time, but do not simply leave me, saes Maedhros. I tortured for you, and I killed for you and I died for you. Am I really deserving of your hate? What have I done to make you hate me?" Tears glimmered in her eyes and she started to cry. He caught her as she sank to the ground, clinging to him as she wept.

"No, Aerin. Please. I...it was only because I thought you would hate me. I love you, I always have. But...I killed you, I lead you into battle, and you died. I ruined you Aerin, I taught you to torture and to kill and then I killed you. I couldn't face you, couldn't bear to look into your eyes and see hatred. It killed me to stay away, but I thought you wanted me to. I love you Aerin, just as much as when we were married, I promise you." 

The sobs stopped and she looked up at him, hope gleaming in her eyes. A tender hand reached up and ghosted around his face, lingering on his cheek. He smiled and she leaned upwards, their lips meeting tenderly, almost shyly. They parted almost immediately, looking away from each other's faces, neither really sure of what to do. She looked over him, taking in the whole skin and returned hand, the removal of all the ill done to him. Never had she judged or ridiculed him for his scars, but she had loathed them, not for their effect on his appearance but for the pain they had caused him. He hesitated, not wanting to move before she was ready. A soft smile spread her lips and then they were kissing again, soft and sweet, just as they had in the rose gardens of Tirion long ago. She leaned against him, revelling in being so close to him after so long. 

"Maedhros."

"Yes?"

"Take me home."

"Of course." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saes means please in one of the Elven languages. I figure that it doesn't really matter what language they use as they would have spoken almost anything but Quenya on a daily basis during the First Age due to Thingol's ban on it


	2. Repairs and Messages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm going to use a mix of the Fëanorions names. Sometimes it'll be their Sindarin names, sometimes their mother of father names. Everyone else will mainly be Sindarin names except whem they're being posh.  
> Just to clarify, here are the Fëanorions names, in the order of Sindarin, mother and then father  
> Maedhros Maitimo Nelyfinwë  
> Maglor Makalaurë Kanafinwë  
> Celegorm Tyelkormo Turkafinwë  
> Caranthir Carnistir Morifinwë  
> Curufin Atarinkë Curufinwë  
> Amrod Pityafinwë Ambarussa .  
> Amras Telùfinwë Ambarussa

The sound of hooves echoed through the courtyard, multiplying and reflecting until the whole dreary settlement seemed alive with horses. Aerin had not seen Formenos since the Darkening, and it seemed as though a shadow hung over it still. The walls of the courtyard were covered in black ivy, the stones discolored and rough. 

The once fair manor house was derelict, windows sagging and tiles missing. She frowned in distaste, did they really live like this still? A clamour of voices, and the remaining six sons of Fëanor streamed out of the tumbledown door, halting in surprise as they saw her, guilt running over several faces. "Aerin?" Maglor's voice was hesitant and quiet, a shadow of his former rich tones. 

"No, I'm Bór. Of course it's me Makalaurë." He flinched, and she rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you, I'm not angry at any of you. Honestly, use your brains. I wouldn't have come if I hadn't wanted to see you. Speaking of which, it's a good thing I did come. This is a disgrace. You have a perfectly good manor house here, and you are letting it go to ruin even more. Not only that, but you are princes of the Noldor, not the sons of some Edain peasant. Wash your faces, comb your hair and change your tunics. Have you even changed in the last three years? We had to go without basic necessities in Middle Earth, but there is no need here." They looked sheepish and she groaned in exasperation. Perhaps she should have come a lot earlier. Maedhros merely smiled and helped her dismount. She did not need assistance, there was no time for fluttering helpless noblewomen in Middle Earth, but it was a gesture of respect and manners were always good. 

She sighed quietly as she looked up at the looming mansion. Even the works of the elves did not last forever if abandoned. This would take some time. 

**************

_Three months later_

"Ouch! Fu-" A hand pressed over Caranthir's mouth.

"Language, Carnistir! You are in the Blessed Realm now, not Thargelion. Use your manners, if you still have them." A bright red flush spread over Caranthir's face, after all his mother-name was Red-faced, as he carefully extracted his foot from the recently felled tree that had been growing in the middle of the courtyard

"Sorry Aerin. But the bl-" His excuse was cut off once again, but this time with a sharp slap over his head. "Sorry Aerin. The huge tree that fell on my foot is a reason to swear isn't it?" She sighed and then darted over to Maglor.

"Makalaurë Kanafinwë Fëanorion! Not the camomile! Weeds, not plants. Look just go and help Ambarusssa with the windows, I'll deal with the garden." Maglor awkwardly stood and joined the twins as they painstakingly removed the cracked panes of glass and replaced them with new ones. Maedhros and Celegorm were pulling ivy from the places it was not supposed to be, placing it in piles for firewood. Curufin was in the newly refurbished forge, making fresh glass panes and outdoor lamps and other odds and ends needed to renovate the outside of the house. The seven brothers moaned and groaned as Aerin set them to task after task, but she partook in an equal part of the work. Additionally, they had only themselves to blame for not doing it earlier.

"Ambarussa, Makalaurë, if a single shard of glass gets inside my house you will be doing the rest of the work by yourselves."

"Yes Aerin." They had just moved outside after cleaning and fixing the entire inside of Formenos. Aerin and Caranthir's hands had not stopped working the entire three months, sewing and repairing rugs and bed linens and tablecloths and curtains and anything else needed of fabric. The forge had not been silent either, Curufin and Maglor working just as hard in forging and fixing hinges and silverware and other furnishings. Maedhros and Celegorm had been set to dealing with anything made of wood, utilising their carpentery skills. The poor Ambarussa had been stuck with the grunt work, scrubbing and polishing and waxing, though they said they preferred that to something that the others were doing where a single mistake could cost you the item you were working on. Now however, Formenos was habitable inside, and they were working on the outside.

**************

_Several weeks later_

"And we're done!" Aerin's voice rang out. There was a moment of silence before the whoops of the six other workers echoed through the courtyard, Amrod and Amras pulling all of the others into an impromptu dance.

"Hang on. Hang on." Maedhros said, laughter evident in his voice. He was reluctant to end the wild celebration, to end the pure joy in his brothers faces. They hadn't been so happy over something so simple and pure since before their father's death. "We still need to get rid of the debris. Then we can celebrate." There was a general groan of 'killjoy' but the final job was undertaken swiftly.

"Who is that? The traders aren't due for another week. Celegorm, can you see?" Maglor asked as he paused after depositing the last pile of ivy outside the gates.

The sharp-eyed hunter squinted before shaking his head. "Sorry Maglor. Whoever they are, they have black hair, and they have the banner King Nolofinwe. But I can't see anything else." Maedhros paused, his sharp mind calculating quickly.

"They must be about forty minutes away. Celegorm, get Curufin, Maglor get clean clothes, Ambarussa the boots. Carnistir, you're in charge of washing faces and hands. Everyone except me and Aerin to the drawing room and get something to do." They all rushed to obey his orders, the courtyard cleared within five minutes. Faces and hands were washed, fresh clothes donned. Maglor was playing his harp softly to himself, the twins involved in a game of chess abandoned that morning. Celegorm and Curufin were fletching arrows from the pile left two days ago, as Caranthir lounged in an armchair with a book. They were wearing the same simple tunic and trousers that they had been before, but they were clean and that was pretty much all that mattered. Maedhros himself, despite his simple garb, looked truly imposing, his face impassive. He found Aerin before a mirror in their bedchamber, quickly brushing her silver-gold hair and twisting it in a knot at the nape of her neck. She was wearing the same simple tunic and trousers as the rest of them, having found it easier to work and fight in than the fussy dresses her family had insisted on stuffing her into. She turned and smiled, spreading her arms out. "How do I look?" 

"Like the Valie I thought you were when I first saw you. Except maybe a bit more real." She giggled and looped her arm through his.

"You don't look half-bad yourself Maedhros. I'd say High King of farming at the least." They laughed and made their way through the cleaned and decorated halls to the entrance, stopping in the drawing room to check on the boys. They were all, well...not perfect, but acceptable. Definitely not at court standard for Tirion, but for Formenos it was perfectly fine. 

They stepped outside the double doors just as the strange rider entered the gates, the only thing that had been even begun before Aerin came to Formenos thanks to Curufin. 

*****************

Fingon was not having a good day. No matter his friendship with Maedhros and Aerin in millennia past, he did not appreciate being sent to face the seven most infamous Kinslayers and a possible hostage in Formenos of all places. Not that he thought Aerin would ever be held hostage - the icy nís in a temper was quite possibly one of the most fearsome things he had ever seen, and he had been slain by Gothmog. However, many of those who had never left Valinor had never seen Aerin as the Gothlossen and so several insisted on seeing her as the innocent bride abducted and brainwashed by a monster and when she finally found peace with a noble ellon, was once again stolen. Unfortunately, this view was held by many, including Aerin's own father, and so Fingon had been sent to singlehandedly rescue the fair maiden from wherever the Kinslayers had her. The biggest lot of rubbish he had ever heard, and his family agreed with him. Anyone who even thought about kidnapping Aerin would have a knife at their throat and some rather painful injuries before you could say 'suicidal'. There was a reason his cousin-in-law was the most feared woman in all of Middle Earth after all. He wondered just how anyone could miss her power and skill, especially living with her for centuries, after her rebirth. Prince Alcarondas had never struck him as particularly unobservant, nor did his Uncle Finarfin, yet those two were the biggest proponents of the theory. Hopefully they would at least feel sorry for him when he returned from Mandos Halls. If they would even believe him that it was Aerin who had killed him. How long would it be, he wondered gloomily, before Aerin snapped and killed them too. She had been quite unstable the last time he saw her, just before the Nirnaeth Arnoediad. Perhaps she would be lenient on him because he did not believe the insulting chauvinistic theory he was being sent to propagate. Maybe she would even leave him with all his limbs intact. But then there was Maedhros to deal with, and Maedhros had been even more unstable and violent than his wife, especially when she was involved. Yep, he was doomed. Like, fifteen minutes to live kind of doomed.

He was jolted out of his gloomy thoughts by the clatter of his horse's hooves on the surprisingly even stones of the courtyard. Looking around, he noticed that the manor was neat and well-kept, all the windows clean and whole, with billowing curtains, as beautiful as those in Tirion. The fountain was spouting crystal clear water, the walls clean and free of ivy and moss. Obviously, Aerin was a harder taskmaster than he had expected. Damn, he owed Finrod three gold pieces. Finrod had bet that by the time he found them, Aerin would have wherever they were staying perfect. He had said half-finished. 

The double doors were flung open and out strode Maedhros with Aerin on his arm. Fingon swallowed nervously. Both were dressed as they had in Middle Earth and he had no doubt that both had at least two knives apiece hidden somewhere on their person. He had seen Aerin destroy three orcs with an arrowhead once, and he had sworn then never ever to cross her if he valued his sanity. Obviously he was crazy. But then, he saw broad grins spread acrosd their faces and Maedhros wave enthusiastically at him, and remembered that he was their favourite cousin. To his surprise, he found that he had missed them. 

''Hello Maedhros, Aerin. Ahem, Prince Maitimo Nelyafinwë Fëanorion, Princess Hyamindiel Inwistiel Alcarondasiel, I am come perforce bearing a bloody stupid message.'' 

*******************

Maedhros wanted to kill something slowly and painfully. Preferably his father-in-law, although he would settle for his uncle Finarfin. He had been let out of the Halls of Mandos, surely that was enough of a hint that perhaps he wasn't going to go around kidnapping princesses on a whim. And did they really think that Aerin would not have escaped by now? That was just insulting. At least the Exiles knew that. Had they really abducted her, they would never have gotten beyond the city boundaries, he was certain. 

"How damn stupid are they?" He asked, his drawling voice showing his disdain for the mere idea down to the tiniest increment. "Please tell me that my mother does not believe it." Fingon smiled and shook his head, albeit hesitantly.

"The Lady Nerdanel is outraged that anyone would think so of her sons."

"And the High King?" Now Fingon smiled for real.

"Adar sends his congratulations on finally getting back together, his condolences to Aerin on how long it took and an invititation to shock the socks off the nobility at the upcoming Spring Ball."

Aerin threw back her head and laughed. "I knew I liked Uncle Nolo for a reason."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inwistiel-Changeable Mood (inwis) Daughter of or Girl (iell)


	3. Formenos to Tirion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maedhros Maitimo Nelyfinwë  
> Maglor Makalaurë Kanafinwë  
> Celegorm Tyelkormo Turkafinwë  
> Caranthir Carnistir Morifinwë  
> Curufin Atarinkë Curufinwë  
> Amrod Pityafinwë Ambarussa  
> Amras Telùfinwë Ambarussa

"Ada, I have a reply from Maedhros and Aerin!" Fingon's voice reached his father's ears easily, the smirk in it readily apparent. "They do not appreciate such a low view of Aerin, accept your congratulations and admonishments and will be here within two days." The court became chaos.

"They what?" Finarfin's incredulous voice rang out above the din following his nephew's announcement. "They kidnapped Hyamindiel, who knows what they are doing to her, and you invited them _here_? Are you insane Nolofinwë?" Fingolfin rolled his eyes. His brother may have fought in the War of Wrath, but he was still the most naive and sheltered of the three sons of Finwë and this bled over into his attitude towards elves in general and especially ellyth. Ellyn who had never lived outside the Blessed Realm, seemed to consider ellyth as fragile as glass, perhaps more so, unable to understand or affect anything beyond domestic problems. But when you had seen the same ellyth leading war councils and armies and mowing down orcs with impunity, it tended to change your view quite drastically. 

"Arafinwë Ingoldo Finwëon, desist with this nonsense. Aerin is quite able to take care of herself, moreso than you!" Finarfin scoffed and stormed off. "Dol gin lost." Fingolfin muttered at his brother's departing back. Really, when your half-brother who threatened to kill you was better company than your full-blood brother, something was wrong. Extremely wrong. 

A murmur ran through the courtiers at his use of the Sindarin phrase, and Fingolfin had to almost physically hold his head back from bashing against the throne's arm rest. He had lived in Middle Earth for several hundred years, it wasn't unreasonable to assume that he spoke at least one of its dialects. Hopefully Aerin and Maedhros' arrival, with their brothers, would give the twittering sheltered courtiers something else to talk about. Then he sighed exasperatedly. That might not be a good thing. Was it too much to hope that they might not kill anyone? The pair had never been famous for their calm natures after all, and that had only increased in Maedhros after his wife's death according to what Fingolfin had gleaned from his children over the years. 

Why did his oldest son have to announce Maedhros and Aerin's reply in the middle of court? Oh, he knew quite well that Fingon was just as tired of the punctilious, judgemental courtiers as he, but it wasn't really necessary to rile them up on purpose in the middle of court. Although it was funny. 

********************************

_Two weeks later_

Finrod was practically hopping from one foot to the other. Aerin and he had been like siblings growing up, and he had missed her terribly, even if he wasn't looking forward to seeing Celegorm and Curufin once more. The other Exiles seemed antsy as well, looking apprehensively at the doors, though hiding it better than the 'Remainers'. The Exiles knew what the Feannoriath were capable of, had seen the consquences of angering them many times. The Remainers, not so much. They were going on ghost stories, and for the younger elves, it was the equivalent of meeting the monster under the bed. 

A commotion sounded outside, voices and hooves mingling and overlapping in a cacophony of sound. Then the hooves stopped and two voices could be heard above the din, Maedhros giving orders to his brothers and Aerin scolding them all impartially. The gigantic doors creaked and then burst open, revealing the eight Feannoriath, for Aerin was always part of this house in the hearts of the Exiles, far more part of her husband's family than her father and mother's. 

Finrod did not know what image of the terrifying Kinslayers had been built up in the minds of the younger generations, but from the discontented rustling, he doubted that they lived up to it. Maedhros seemed little like the scarred monster tales were whispered of. His crimson robe and tunic were simple and well made, with little embroidery. A golden circlet with a single small ruby encircled his head, his crimson locks bound by a net of braids Aerin's style was clear in. He looked nothing like the hideous evil monster tales painted him as, but a prince, clearly in love wih his princess. For that was induipitable what Aerin was. A princess. Perhaps not the typical pure and innocent princess but definetly a princess. She wore a floor length riding habit, as crimson as her husband's own clothes, the only decoration an intricate gold belt and some golden fastenings at the front. A similar circlet to her husband's sat on her own brow, though more delicate, her unbound hair streaming out from beneath it, reaching below her knees. Gold and red, Feanorian colours. 

The other brothers were also dressed in Feanorian colours, though Celegorm avoided any gold due to his silver hair. Aerin had obviously dressed them and braided their hair, her touch obvious in the little twists of the braids and the spotlessness of their tunics and robes. All this was apparent to Finrod's eye, trained through long and hard years of war to notice the smallest details. He doubted that the younger generations, those expecting monsters surrounding a pure and innocent girl noticed this. They would probably only notice the surprising lack of monsters. 

At the base of the throne, the Feannoriath knelt, eight elves, fair and bright. "High King Fingolfin." Maedhros spoke in the dialect of Quenya that the Exiles ended up using, a sort of amalgamtion of both Sindarin and Quenya. "You have summoned us, and we have answered. What does the king command?" Fingolfin stood and replied, his words filled with warmth.

"I have summoned you, sons of my brother and daughter of my brother. Arise, adjourn with me and the rest of our kin to break your fast from the long journey." Obediently, they followed him, the rest of the House of Finwe (and the fuming Alcarondas) following him.

*****************************

Aerin could see her father turning purple, which was rather an accomplishment for an elf. Her uncle Finarfin was staring at her as though trying to work something out, as was her aunt Earwen. They at least seemed to be listening to the protestations of herself, her husband, his brother's, and the rest of the extended family that no one would ever be able to hold her hostage for so long, she would not be so happy if they had, and she was old enough to make her own choices. 

"Of course you are." Alcarondas' voice was heavy with patronising sarcasm. "That's why as soon as I tried to find a good match with you, you ran off in a temper tantrum to the bloody Kinslayers! This is why I do not let you make your choices Hyamindiel, because you make the wrong ones. What is the choice the next time that you do not agree with one of my decisions? Joining Sauron as he rises in Middle Earth once again? Open your eyes and look Hyamindiel. They are using you! They are probably planning to sacrifice you to Morgoth for the return of the dragons or something equally as despicable, and you will not listen to me!'' 

"We are what?" The sons of Feanor rose to their feet, but the other members of the house of Finwe managed to hold them back, though Aerin had to sit on her husband's lap to calm him, even if she didn't feel like it.

"My name is Aerin, father." Aerin could forgive many things but the dragons were a particularly sore point with her, her face white with rage and her voice shaking. "My husband gave it to me, the one who loves me for more than what I can buy him. Do not stand there, judging me by who I was, commanding me to abandon those who I love. If you cannot try to get to know me as I am now, then you aren't worth my time. There is a reason I was a feared warrior, and it wasn't because I was a china doll. Trust me when I say, if you throw my death in my husband's face, I will kill you slowly, blood of mine or not."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aerin's dress coming into the city: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/790241065868362510/?nic_v2=1b3yGkCPb


	4. The Hunt

The four days between the arrival of the House of Fëanor and the Spring Ball were tense to say the least. Old rivalries and grievances reared their heads at the most inopportune of times, and several times a day brawls broke out. Mainly between Celegorm & Curufin and Finrod & Orodreth, though on one memorable occasion, all four teamed up against Turukano and beat him silly in revenge for hiding away while they all died. Arafinwë remained disapproving and wary, as did Earwen, though they were slowly starting to see that perhaps Aerin had made, if not the right choice, then at least a reasonable one. 

The uneasy and oft-broken peace remained stretched taut, with the still damaged elves often rubbing each other the wrong way. Perhaps a little unwisely, Fingolfin insisted that every single member of the House of Finwë in the palace ate together at meals in an attempt to fix the destroyed relationships between them. As long as Alcarondas was out of the picture, most of them got along. Unfortunately, whenever he showed up, he began spewing tripe about his innocent daughter among those depraved monsters. Several of the ex-Exile members of the family choked on their laughter when he ranted to Finarfin about "those depraved monsters corrupting my pure little pearl". Aerin had been as much a 'depraved monster' as her husband or any of her brothers, though she had hidden it better since rebirth. Which was why they had this problem with Alcarondas in the first place.

Still, they managed to get through the four days with no murders, broken limbs or even serious injuries. The most serious injury was a concussion from when Celegorm, Curufin, Orodreth and Finrod teamed up against Turukano. It was a miracle. A complete and utter miracle. Today was the day of the Spring Ball, with only a few more hours left. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief as they sat down to breakfast, thanking the Valar that nothing bad had happened. 

Then Alcarondas sat down at the table. Up until now, he had avoided them when all seven of the Feanoriath were present, or within hearing distance. They ate in strained silence, the bustling noises of the city below floating up to their balcony.

Finally, as she finished eating, Aerin attempted to break the ice. "Aredhel, what do you say we go hunting after this? It would be a nice way to spend the time until the ball." Aerin's voice was taut, her frame vibrating with tension and, thankfully, her cousin took her up on the escape.

"Yes, that would be lovely. I hear there are some new stallions in the stables, quite vicious from what I hear. I'm dying for sime fun like that. Celegorm?" The third son of Feanor grinned at the prospect.

''Why not. Anyone else?" Maedhros and Eöl immediately volunteered, as did Curufin, Finrod, Fingolfin, Argon and Gil-galad.*

"Wonderful. Meet at the stables in half an hour then." Fingolfin grinned wolfishly at the prospect of a good hunt, though hunts were best against orcs and wargs in the opinion of most of the Exiles at the table.

"Any good places anyone knows?" Finrod's voice was eager, for it was a little known fact that when his cousins lived in Nargothrond, the three often hunted together.

A babble of voices ensued, with the types of game found in each place. Then Argon mentioned wolves, bear and deer in a valley perhaps twenty minutes ride from the city and it was decided. Wolves were the closest things to wargs in Valinorë and so on the occasions that exiles managed to go on hunts, they were favoured game. Additionally, bear and deer meat would go down well with the kitchens. Finrod particularly, had a vendetta against wolves owing to a certain incident in Tol-in-Gaurhoth. 

"How big are they? How many?" Of course, they had to be careful not to hunt them so much that they became endangered and it was good that Eöl remembered.

"Ooh about twelve dozen last I was there as I recall. Some of the biggest and ugliest brutes I've ever seen this side of the Sea, nearly of a size with an average Warg. Glorfindel and I went hunting there last winter, brilliant chase." Argon's nonchalance about this was completely normal for almost everyone around the table, and even Arafinwë was unfazed. Wargs were some of the easiest foes in the Hither Lands and hunting them was considered almost a sport. 

"Oh good, we haven't been for a proper hunt since Aerin came. We've been cleaning and tidying for months! I swear, my hands are still red from the needles. Ow! Aerin." Celegorm protested as Aerin whacked her brother-in-law over the head in response to his jibe.

"If you hadn't lived like pigs for years it would have been easier." The seven male Feanoriath winced at her well-placed retort. 

"Aerin melenya, come and get ready. You can deal with my brothers after the hunt." Maedhros' voice interrupted the growing banter. He put an arm around his wife's waist, and she sighed and smiled up at him.

"Of course Maedhros. After all, you still owe me a rematch from the hunt in Maglor's Gap just before the Nirnaeth. Remember?"

"I won that one fair and square I will have you know Aerin."

"By one kill that I had already wounded. And it was barely alive as it was - I almost felt sorry for it. Anyway, the point is that kill doesn't count."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Either way melenya, we still need a rematch."

"True. "

The couple had left the balcony by now and their banter faded from earshot. Maglor chuckled, shaking his head when the rest of the family looked at him with a question in their eyes.

"I think that they have quite forgotten that both Celegorm and Curufin out-hunted them that time by half a dozen. I know, I had to keep count."

"Oh poor you!" Finrod exclaimed dramatically. "I had to score a hunt between them, Fingon and Aredhel once. It was a nightmare, I kept losing them and then riding off in the only direction none of them had gone. They ended up hunting me more than anything else." The table fell into laughter and the conversation moved on.

Unfortunately, they had all forgotten Alcarondas, who had been growing steadily more and more furious. He seemed to be the only elf in existence to regularly achieve a purple-faced state of fury. When Celegorm mentioned scoring an orc hunt between Fingon, Finrod, Maedhros and Aerin, and the injuries that came of it, Alcarondas finally lost it. "Enough!" Idril and Finduilas giggled slightly, and then quickly became serious at a stern look from their respective parents. "My daughter, would never behave so. Cease with your lies and slander against her!" Fingolfin choked. Actually, most of the Exiles did - what they had been discussing was tame, especially considering that it was Aerin and Maedhros they spoke of. Alcarondas ranted on, until Maedhros and Aerin returned fifteen minutes later in hunting gear. "You!" He yelled, pointing a finger at Maedhros. "You kidnapped my daughter twice, and this is the end! Release her and leave this place! You shall not lead her to her death agai-" He ended with a strangled choke as, fast as a snake, Aerin lunged at him, placing a long hunting knife against his throat as she pushed him against a wall. 

"I told you once, Atarinya." Her voice was silky sweet and several Exiles shuddered - this was exactly the same tone as she had used when she was interrogating orcs and servants of the Enemy. "The next time you use my death against my husband, I promised I would end you. Because this is the day of the Spring Feast, I will let you go. But this is your last chance. The next time you throw _my_ death in _my_ husband's face, I will show you _exactly_ why I was so feared in Middle Earth." And she walked out.

Alcarondas coughed and spluttered, rubbing at the beads of blood that had sprung up where Aerin's knife had been. No one looked at him - Aerin rarely went back on her word. 

***************

The hunt was vicious, wild and brilliant. The ten hunters whooped and cheered, taking as much joy from simply riding fast through woods as from the chase. It had been so long since they had been able to hunt so, fierce and free, without the stifling rules of court. Alcarondas had not allowed Aerin to hunt at all, considering it unladylike. She had not been able to yell, scream, shout, rage, fight, kill or even wear anything but the delicate pale clothes he considered appropriate for a woman of her station. By the time she had been told of her marriage, she had been half mad with boredom. Now, she was happy, healthy and as wild as ever she had been in the First Age, her hair tangled with twigs and leaves, her tunic and leggings covered in dirt and mud and a little blood. 

Indeed, the hunt was cathartic for all of them. It had been so long since they could really hunt, together, wild and loud, without the constraints of what was considered proper by the courtiers who had never left Aman. It was glorious. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Melenya-beloved  
> Vennonya-husband
> 
> * I headcanon that Gil-galad is already reborn and is best friends with his first cousin once removed Argon(don't look at me like that, elves are immortal they can have weird relationships. This is nowhere near as weird as the one where Earwen's sister marries Maedhros and lives in Rivendell). To clear up any confusion, Gil-galad is firmly Fingon's son in the universe.


	5. The Spring Ball Incident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for Fantasticoncer, who gave me the push I needed to continue this chapter after I nearly gave up in frustration. Also for their amazing idea of Maedhros' outburst.
> 
> Warning:  
> Mention of insanity, flashback of miscarriage.

The Spring Ball. One of the most anticipated events of the year, especially when the Noldoran hosted it. Not attending it as a member of the nobility was considered tantamount to social suicide. And with the return of the Exiles and many Moriquendi, it had become...a lot less restrictive. 

Aerin and Aredhel were helping each other to get ready, the two having become extremely close in Middle Earth, even though there had been the annoying period where Turgon had kept her shut up in the Hidden City. And the much more annoying period where she and Eöl had been dead. 

Aredhel was wearing a simple white dress, aiming to show her disdain for the emphasis on over-elaborate and ridiculous dresses. It was a lovely dress, elegantly cut with soft clingy fabric so that it clung to her frame in delicate folds. The neckline was a hair (or several) too low to be quite 'acceptable to public society', and the beautiful fabric was a little too clingy to be quite as modest as the 'Remainers' seemed to want ellith to dress. It was, however, very very simple, with no ornamention or elaborately cut layers. One layer of delicate clingy cloth, cut cunningly but not in any way shape or form anything but simple, it was Aredhel to the last stitch. And just because her dress was simple didn't mean that she wasn't enjoying dressing up - Eöl had given her some beautiful mithril and diamond jewellry only a few days before, and with the complete lack of colour in her outfit, the sharp contrast of the stark white of her skin and attire as opposed to the equally unyielding black of her hair and eyes created a rather unsettling effect. She didn't seem entirely human...or elven, but whatever. Aredhel seemed like some wild, fey spirit from some land of ice and snow. Which was exactly what she was going for. 

Aerin on the other hand, was going for shock factor. Aredhel's parents had been quite happy to allow her to continue the way of life she had been so happy leading in Middle Earth, but since her rebirth, Aerin's family had been intent on returning her to the delicate and perfect princess she had once been. The past few thousand Spring Balls she had attended, she had had her outfit chosen by her mother, all delicate fluttery material, covering her from her neck to her toes, hiding her figure, making her seem lovely and innocent and unspoilt. Aerin was anything but that. She was fierce and wild and more than a little cruel and ever so slightly insane. Also, she was bored. There was only so much tension one could take before it became...common place. In any case, Aerin was going to have fun. This dress was one of her favorites, having been made for the celebration of the Dagor Aglareb around six thousand years ago and somehow surviving all of the shit that had happened in between. Like her, it was a survivor. Granted she had technically died, but that was not that point.

Long sleeves, highly elaborate gold detailing and a floor length skirt that pooled on the floor around her would have made it a typically impractical court ball dress, but for the slit that went nearly to the top of her thigh and the neckline that plunged to below her sternum in a narrow slit. Additionally, the shape was quite shocking, hugging her figure so snugly that the dress was practically skintight until just below her hips upon which it flared out beautifully. The dark, beautiful red colour was another wonderful part of the ambience of the dress, taking the amount of shock Aerin wanted to a whole new level. Hopefully. Her hair streamed down her back, a few locks at the sides caught up in an intrcately woven pattern over the back of her head studded with little rubies. She wasn't wearing much jewellry, only her wedding ring. 

Aredhel grinned as she helped her cousin-in-law fix the final ruby in place in her hair. "You, my dear cousin, are going to make quite the stir today." Aerin grinned.

''As are you." They linked arms and left Aredhel's rooms where they had been dressing. At the end of the corridor, they found Maedhros and Eöl discussing something, most likely hunting. The other six sons of Fëanor were already in the hall, so they should hurry. Knowing her brothers-in-law as she did, there was a high probability of a diplomatic incident if they didn't get down there shortly. Except Maglor. Hopefully he would be able to get his brothers to at least avoid physical assault. They tended to behave if she was in the room. 

"Maedhros." He turned, and Aerin was most gratified to see his light grey eyes widen dramatically and then darken to almost black. 

"Aerin...you look.." She grinned and appraised him with one raised eyebrow. 

"Thank you meldo. You don't look half bad yourself." A complete lie. He looked wonderful, and she was more than a little tempted to skip the Spring Ball altogether and hole up with him in their rooms. Unfortunately, they had come all the way here mostly to annoy the stuck up nobility. "Well, shall we?" Wicked grins spread across the faces of her companions. 

"How well do you think a few...Avari traditions would go down?" Eöl's innocent tone was only matched by the pure mischief in his eyes. 

******************

The Spring Ball was a lot less boring that Aerin had found it while under her parents thumb. Probably because she had been forced to sit there the entire time as no one who asked to dance with her was considered 'acceptable'. The only reason she hadn't gone completely insane during that time was the sporadic escapes to her grandfather Olwë and grandmother Nemmirë. They remembered Middle Earth before Aman, remembered a time of visceral, gut instinct and wild, almost cruel survival and freedom. Not that Aman wasn't lovely, but there was something that just didn't compare to the sheer beauty and terror of fighting for your life against a pack of orcs. Her grandparents understood, understood the continuous, nagging urge to be wild and free and vicious. Her Amani born and bred and based parents could never understand it. 

The strains of another dance began, and she instantly grabbed Maedhros' hand and dragged him to the dance floor, leaving High King Fingolfin standing alone laughing quietly at their abrupt departure. Not that they were the only ones. Ex-Exiles were practically flocking to the dance floor - this had been rather remarkably popular in Middle Earth.

This was one of the last dances they had had in Middle Earth, in celebration of the Dagor Aglareb. It was a wonderfully...wild dance the Avari had introduced the Noldor to. Maedhros took a second to recognise it, before his once more unmarred face broke out into a huge grin. This was one of their favorite dances. They took up their positions and began to dance, the steps growing steadily wilder and more, well, sensual. By the end of the dance, the participants were usually practically entwined around each other and quite ready to retire from the party for a shady alcove or niche. Unfortunately, a certain ellon just couldn't leave them alone. Slightly more understandable this time considering that Aerin and Maedhros were practically glued to each other before the dance was half way through. They had avoided overt PDA in front of Alcarondas before simply because they couldn't be bothered to deal with the drama that would come from it. Now however, it was the Spring Ball and they would be damned if they let anyone ruin their night, as they would anyway, without having a little fun.

A hand grabbed Aerin and attempted to force her behind its owner. "Cease molesting my daughter! Hyamindiel, leave. And put something decent on. I will deal with him. Do not fear, he shall come near you again." The music ground to a halt and the Exiles nearest the scene about to explode scrambled back. This was not good. At all. Alcarondas had just crossed the line. Fingolfin closed his eyes, crossed his fingers and prayed to Eru that Maedhros wouldn't damage Alcarondas too badly. 

Aerin wrenched her hand away and stood in front of her dangerously quiet husband. Alcarondas, not seeming to realise the tempest he was unleashing, continued to try and get his daughter away, promising her that Maedhros would never touch her again. Then he basically told her that he would protect her from being raped by Maedhros and that was it. Aerin's arms went around her husband to try to restrain him, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. A kinslaying was not what they needed right now. Unfortunately, Alcarondas had most definitely crossed the line several thousand miles back. Maedhros had become a lot calmer since his rebirth, the Oath no longer constantly buzzing like a tormented hive of wasps in the back of his mind. He had been highly unstable towards the end of her life, as had she to be honest. And for all their newly replace Amani veneer, they were still the same elves they had been in Middle Earth, with the same vicious tempers. 

"What. Did. You. Say." Maedhros voice had adopted the rough, low timbre that he had used in Middle Earth with orcs and other servants of the Enemy. He started to take a threatening step forward, but Aerin pulled him back.

"Maedhros, leave it. He didn't even touch me, it's fine." But once her husband's ire was awakened he was like an avalanche or a wildfire - unstoppable, destroying everything in it's path. Not that Aerin wasn't gratified that he was so angry on her behalf, but she really really didn't want a scene. Or, she amended looking around at the ring of silently watching elves, as little of a scene as possible. "Maedhros...it's alright, I promise." 

"Aerin meldanya. Move." She winced at the tone. This was not good 

"Maedhros..." He looked at her and then back at Alcarondas and she rolled her eyes."I can protect myself perfectly well as you know. A few ill-chosen words are not going to hurt me." He was still raging internally and she sighed, turning his face towards her. "Armies of orcs could not kill me, you know this vennonya. It is alright, I promise." Why was she trying so hard to prevent her husband's justified rage? She honestly didn't know. 

"Armies of orcs? Lying does not become you Hyami-" Alcarondas broke off as Maedhros grabbed his throat and slammed him into the floor, leaving Aerin standing alone, exasperated. Several non-Exile elves winced. Although really, Maedhros was being rather gentle considering how badly Alcarondas had insulted both him and Aerin. After the Nirnaeth especially, he had been known to half kill an elf for much less than what he had ignored from his wife's father. It had grown so that you could barely mention her name without him either essentally breaking down or flying into a rage. Aerin had been holding him together after Angband, but her death had broken him completely. Apparently his violent reactions to insults to Aerin had only been sleeping. 

"I would suggest you close your mouth, law-father." Maedhros voice sent a shiver through the crowd, and his brothers pushed through, several groaning.

"You spend half an hour warning us against violence, and then attack your law-father. Honestly gwador nin-ouch!" Celegorm broke his complaint off abruptly when Maedhros accidentally kicked him in the shin as he was forcibly pulled off Alcarondas. The two ellon were held back from each other, Maedhros by his brothers and Alcarondas by Finarfin and his sons. Aerin was standing with Fingon, her head in her hands as the ellon's gold-braided plaits shook with his laughter. 

"Leave my daughter alone Kinslayer! She does not need your influence on her. Look at her, my little Hyamindiel, dressed like a human wh-"

"Finish calling my wife that, and I will make you regret it, you self-righteous, self-centered selfish orc!" Maedhros raged as he struggled against his brothers' hold. Aerin looked very close to just leaving, but Fingon was laughing so hard that he was actually leaning on her, and she couldn't really leave without him falling flat on the floor. Normally she wouldn't have a problem with it, but he was so drunk she doubted he could see straight, and he would probably hurt himself. She rolled her eyes. Gaining six brothers by marriage had been daunting enough, but she had quickly realised that marrying into the House of Finwë meant you married into the _House_ of Finwë. That meant drunk cousins forgetting you weren't a pillar, depressed cousins crying into your shoulder and happy cousins squealing and chattering your ears off. Yes, even Turgon. 

"Rash Kinslayer! If this is how you act in public then I wonder how you act in private. How many bruises does Hyamindiel's dress cover hmm?" Aerin's head snapped up. He did not, ugh, did her father want to die? With a gutteral roar of rage, Maedhros ripped loose from his brothers and charge his law-father again. In a flash, Aerin was in front of him and halted him. 

"Aerin. Let. Me. Through."

"No. Come away Maedhros. He is not worth it. Not worth jeopardising everything for. Come with me vennonya." She twined her arms about his neck and kissed him, before taking his arm and leading him out of the hall to the gardens. Maedhros walked straight, looking neither to the left or the right, lips pressed thin together with surpressed rage. Alcarondas let out a strangled cry of fury at seeing his daughter walking off with her husband, but from the way it cut off, someone had very probably placed a hand over his mouth. Probably Fingon. 

**************

They were dancing again, this time to a slow, gentle waltz. Alcarondas had long since disappeared, most likely off to Alqualondë in a rage upon finding his own parents most unsupporting of his attempts to end his daughter's marriage. Olwë and his queen considered Aerin and Maedhros well matched, and considered trying to match Aerin with a child riding on his father's coattails practically sentencing the child to death. 

Maedhros had his arms about his wife, the two enjoying the quiet moment. They didn't often have time just to enjoy each others company, not with six brothers. "Vennonya." Aerin's voice was hesitant, and he hummed in reply. "I...what would you say to...well, I mean...say we had a baby...would you...want a baby?" He stiffened, memories bombarding him.

_Aerin glowing with happiness, placing his hand on her curved stomach, feeling a tiny pinprick of fëa that was not his wife. Celegorm bringing a pair of hunting knives to the baby shower, though at least he didn't bring a tame bear as Caranthir did. Lying together watching the stars, the baby's fëa for once languid rather than excited. Riding together on a hunt, just the two of them. Blood welling from a black arrow in Aerin's shoulder, and then blood on her saddle._ _Aerin, covered in blood and barely moving, holding the tiny, perfect form of a little girl barely larger than his hand as their world fell apart. A little grave marker, all that would mark their daughter's place in the world. Aerin, alternating between violent rage and complete apathy and total despair._

"Maedhros?'' He hadn't replied, he realised, caught in the memories of their lost little one. Could he really? Then the memory of when they realised they were going to be parents surfaced. 

"Yes." He said softly. Then, a little louder. "A child, our own child." Aerin smiled radiantly and pressed herself closer against him. A flash caught his eye, and he saw the daughter of Dior closing in. Not again. 

Elwing, was spoiled, her every whim catered to by the servants who had raised her after the fall of Doriath. She was also strong-willed and pig-headed. Once an opinion was made, it was nigh impossible to change. Which meant that her considering them Kinslayers, meant that in her eyes at least, they should never have been reborn. "No monster's child shall be born in Aman while I can hinder it! Aman shall not be darkened by the spawn of Kinslayers." Elwing drew herself up proudly, clearly imagining herself the popular and beloved champion of right. Aerin bit her lip, the words painfully close to what had been bandied around in hostile camps after they had lost their daughter. 

"Elwing! Leave Prince Maedhros and Princess Aerin alone. They have done nothing to you, and holding a grudge will avil nothing "

"I...you're supposed to be on my side! You're my husband!" Oh joy. Not that Maedhros didn't like Eärendil, on the contrary, on the few occasions they had met the half-elf had been quite likeable. But even he knew that putting the estranged spouses together would cause havc. Just what they needed. Two scenes in one night. 

"Your husband? Your husband? Our marriage ended the day you abandoned our helpless little boys in favour of a shiny stone! A shiny stone that you had no right to in the first place! Maedhros and Maglor at least took care of them, after someone abandoned them and jumped into the fucking sea." He wheeled to Maedhros. "Prince Maedhros, I wish to acknowledge a debt that I owe you for the fostering of my sons. My humblest gratitude and sincerest thanks." Maedhros acknowledged the words by rote, watching Elwing carefully. 

"Debt! Debt! Are you out of your mind Eärendil! They are the cause of my suffering, of every iota of pain inflicted upon me. Allowing them to reproduce would be a sin against Eru himself!" Maedhros felt a haze of red rage drift across him. He felt Aerin stiffening and turning, vaguely feeling that he should stop her before something terrible happened. But really, for Elwing? Besides, it was wonderful to watch Aerin eviscerate people. 

"You ignorant, immature, selfish bitch. You think you suffered, being sheltered and protected? The only encounters you ever had with pain was Doriath and Sirion, and that wasn't pain. I lost everything, my family, my husband and my child, and then I burned, and it took me a week to die. Endure that and come out the other side. But until then, do not speak to me of pain." A resounding slap sounded through the again suddenly silent ball room, and then Aerin stalked off. Maedhros groaned. First his outburst and now Aerin's. This was turning out to be a great Spring Ball. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aerin's dress:  
> https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/790241065865695107/
> 
> Soooo....  
> Badly written, plot weirdness. Definitely insanity in some of the characters. 
> 
> Not one of my better chapters. Sorry about that.


	6. The Same Old Theme

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from zombie by the cranberries.
> 
> This chapter is for the brilliant Fantasticoncer, without who's prompting this would never have been finished.

The day after the Spring Ball was rather quiet. Alcarondas had stormed off back to Alqualondë after the complete lack of support from anyone, and Elwing had been sent to her parents, who were horrified by their daughter's lack of respect for such high ranking Noldor. 

Breakfast was quiet and comfortable, and Aerin and Maedhros decided to visit the training fields afterwards. They hadn't had a proper spar for millennia, and Aerin was itching for her weapons. Before they left, Maglor gave her a wrapped package. "Makalaurë...what's..."

"Open it when you get there. It's something I should have given back to you years ago."

The package contained two beautiful swords. Aerin sighed happily. "Narauta and Airursa. Ah, I've missed my beauties." They launched into a fight, wild and vicious as ever, Fingon and Finrod stopping their own spar to egg their cousins on. As always. The two were a terrible combination. There was a reason they had been put so far away from each other in Middle Earth. 

"Kick him where it hurts Aerin!"

"No, get her hair Maedhros." A very, very good reason, Aerin decided.

******************

Finrod and Fingon had tired of heckling their cousins long before the match had ended, and so Aerin and Maedhros were nearly alone as they made their way back to their quarters to change, covered in mud and grinning wildly. It had been so long, and she had practically forgoten the intoxicating, heady rush that came with holding a sword, and from using it. 

In the corridors, bustling as they were with the veritable armies of elves that accompanied any court, the other travellers made way for them with alacrity, most likely not because of the mud, but because of the people who were beneath the mud. Some though, rather than skirting them in seeming fear, made way for them as for monarchs, with covertly bent heads and whispers of 'my Prince' 'my Princess', and even once 'your Majesties'. Not that the whispers were meant to be heard by any but the couple - the whisperers were those who had served them in Middle Earth, those who would be reviled and ostracised should it become known just who they had served. 

"We should do that again. I missed it so much. You know, I didn't really feel alive until then meldo. There's just something about fighting that cannot be duplicated." They reached their rooms and shut the door, Aerin leaning against the wall and stretching like a particularly satisfied cat. "Ah, I will ache tomorrow, I am out of practise."

Maedhros smiled, wiping some of the mud away from her face. "You are not the only one meleth. We need a proper practicing ground at Formenos."

"That we do. Where should we put it? There is a space between the forge and the vegetable garden, although we would need to clear the trees first and then...but we can plan that later, first we need to wash. I haven't been so dirty since..." Unspoken, the words _since I died slowly and in agony from dragon flame_ hung in the air and ruined the joyful mood. Maedhros looked away. 

"Yes." They did not speak of their deaths. Not ever.

*****************

"Ow, you're going to get it in my eye!"

"Well hold still then. It's not my fault you had a scar so close to your eye."

"It's not my fault either." Ah. That. 

Aerin quietly finished tracing the gold paint along the familiar lines of her husband's old scars before handing him the brush. He outlined her own scars, mostly little nicks and scratches compared to his elaborate tracery courtesy of Sauron, though there was one that slanted across her throat which had been deep and long and had nearly taken both her voice and her life. At the end, the scars which had shone silver in Middle Earth shone gold in the Aman sunlight. 

They looked, for a moment, as they had when they were merely the Lord and Lady of Himring during the Long Peace. No politics, no enemies, just long hunts and wild feasts with their cousins. 

Someone knocked on the door and the spell was broken. "Yes?" Maedhros opened it and barked at the hapless manservant who had raised his hand to tap again.

"P...please your Highness. The King wishes to speak with you a...and the Princess Aerin." 

"We will be there shortly." Then he shut the door and turned to her with a sparkle in his eye. "What do you say we give them a surprise?" 

Aerin stifled a rather unladylike cackle and followed him as he climbed down the trellis beneath their window. How many times had they done this over the course of their lives? She firmly shut out memories of doing such for reconnaissance missions. 

They ran through the gardens, laughing as they went.

"Lady Hyamindiel! Oh fair and tender maiden who holds my heart! Please, do not follow him down into the dark."

Aerin's head snapped round and she halted stock still from shock. "Excuse me?" The elf who had spoken was young, probably still able to count his centuries on one hand. He had typical Noldorin features, and was wearing...she blinked. Were those...yep, they were. Dozens of diamonds the size of her fist all over his clothes, each one in an elaborate gold setting. Heavily vulgar. "And just _who_ are you?" Though she could quite well guess. 

The elf went down on one knee and held out a bunch of flowers. "I am Anarion, son of Lord Arandur, and I am your betrothed my lady. Would you consider a walk by the lake? Properly chaperoned of course." 

Aerin and Maedhros burst out laughing. The thought that this child could even think to bind Aerin so was absurd. "In your dreams sweetheart. Run home to Ammë now."

"No!" The elf flung the flowers on the ground and stamped his foot in a marvellously quick mood swing, which had only the effect of making the pair laugh harder. "You are promised to me! So you will obey me, and stand away from the Kinslayer!" 

Maedhros' mood went from merry to grim before Aerin could blink, and he lunged for the raging child. "Do not speak to me of promises. I know their strength and power. My _wife_ is promised to no man but _me_ , and no one but me has any claim to her. Do you understand, little lordling?"

"B...but Atto said, I could have her."

Aerin winced from where she leaned against a wall. She buffed an apple on her sleeve and bit into it, watching the show with enjoyment. " _No one_ possesses her. Aerin is her own elleth, and her own mistress. And the next time that you want to make a claim on _my_ bonded wife, it must be with your map of Mandos' Halls ready, and the hope that they will find your genitalia sometime in the next century. Understand elfling?" He whimpered and ran away as Maedhros hissed after him. From her vantage point near the wall, Aerin chuckled. She could have dealt with the arrogant elfling herself of course, but watching Maedhros do it was far more fun. 

"Are you coming Maedhros?" It would not do to be late to meet with the High King. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Narauta, Airursa - Fire-steel, Sea-wrath
> 
> I got the idea for Maedhros and Aerin putting gold paint where their scars used to be from a fic I read a while ago. I don't remember what it was called, but I do want to properly credit it, so if anyone can remember what it was called I would greatly appreciate it. Thank you.
> 
> EDIT:  
> Thanks to SallyJasmineRose who suggested that ATATYA might be the fic that inspired the gold paint. It probably was, but I'm not sure so I'll put it here anyway. 
> 
> Read and review


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